


Blood Doesn't Make A Family

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Draws Just Because, Andrew Is His Usual Blunt Self, But None Of The Foxes, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: Neil's uncle dies and he worries when he feels nothing.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	Blood Doesn't Make A Family

**Author's Note:**

> So, I read these books within a span of a week and I loved them a lot. I didn't think I was going to write anything for them, but I had this idea and I couldn't let it go. So yeah, here I am writing for these two.
> 
> Thank you for reading, it's really appreciated, and if you'd like leave me a comment :D

Neil received the text around 3 AM.

His phone had been off at the time, so he didn't see it until after his morning run. He almost deleted it, the number unknown, but when he read it he had to sit down, feeling numb.

Stuart Hartford was dead.

Once the initial numbness passed, Neil was surprised to feel nothing. He hadn't known his uncle well, and other than Baltimore and Evermore he'd never exchanged more than 5 words with the guy, but he was still his uncle. His mother’s brother, and the last tie he really had to her. A part of him felt like he should be feeling something.

"Is there something wrong with me?" Neil asked later that day, curled up on the couch, looking at Andrew’s back. Andrew was slumped in their desk chair, legs pulled up into the seat, a brown tabby napping across his shoulders.

"You want a list?" Andrew murmured, his attention on the sketchpad in front of him, his pencil moving deftly across the page.

A knee injury a few years ago benched him for most of the season and he'd taken an online art class to pass the time. Neil caught him drawing sometimes, each sketch better than the last, but it'd been a while since he'd last drawn anything.

Choosing to ignore Andrew's question, knowing him well enough to know he didn't mean anything by it, Neil said, "My uncle died today."

Andrew spared Neil single glance over his shoulder, an indication that he was listening, and returned to his sketch.

"And I just feel-" Neil trailed off, chewing on his lip. He sighed and said, "Nothing."

Andrew was quiet for a long time, erasing something he messed up on and blowing the shaving off the page. He fixed whatever it was, drew a few more lines, and then said, "You two weren't close."

"I know.” The other cat jumped onto the couch, plopping down next to him, batting his hand away when he tried to pet her. She reminded him of Andrew, and he smiled. “It’s just, he was my uncle and he saved my life.”

A long silence settled over them, their breathing and Andrew’s pencil moving across the page the only noises in the room, but Andrew broke it when he said, “If I died today would you feel anything?”

Neil’s heart clenched in his chest and he said, “What kind of question is that?”

Andrew turned in his chair, fixing Neil with an unreadable expression, and said, “A valid one. Would you feel anything?”

The words caught in Neil’s throat. Of course he’d feel something; he’d feel like he lost a part of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. 

Mutely, he nodded.

“Exactly because you _know_ me,” Andrew continued pointedly. “From what you have told me, you talked to your uncle maybe 3 times. Am I right?”

Again, Neil nodded.

“3 times versus ten years,” Andrew said and turned back to his sketch. “That is the difference.” He closed his sketchbook and dropped it onto the desk.

He took the cat off his shoulders, ignoring his annoyed chirp, and stood up. He left the cat in his chair, walking across the room, his fingers brushing through Neil’s hair as he passed him, and headed towards the bathroom.

When he heard the door close, Neil stood up and walked towards Andrew’s sketchbook. He flipped it open, studying sketches he had seen countless times, his fingers ghosting over the neat lines. Andrew would never admit it, but he had talent.

He smiled when he flipped to the last sketch, an exact replica of the framed photograph on their desk. Dan had taken it the last time she and Matt had been in town, quick camera work leaving them unaware until she mailed them the photo.

Andrew’s head was in Neil’s lap, the cats sprawled across his body, one of his rare smiles on his face as he looked up at Neil. Warmth bloomed up in Neil’s chest, along with unbridled terror at the idea of this ever ending someday.

“ _3 times versus ten years,”_ Andrew’s voice drifted into his mind, a reminder that just because Stuart and he shared blood didn’t mean they were family.

Neil let out a shaky breath and closed the sketchbook.


End file.
